The General Poetry Thread
 

This is for any member who wants to post.
But doesn't feel like creating their own thread.

Have fun, people.:)

Meaning
 

One with myself
Beyond others
But nothing is accomplished

Where is my drive
What is the goal
To know I accomplished

To succeed
More than survive
So they know I accomplished

Discovering
Inventing
Creating

Beyond wisdom
Beyond wealth
Experience no horizon

There is a place
That I cannot dream
But to know

No such place
But to create
It is within my grasp

Just Reach


Just something to start with...
I just found this in my archives, I haven't seen it in some time.

Girls I've Loved

Every girl I ever loved lies in someone else’s arms tonight.
I ask to soon, to late, Never.
Greedily I haste never to be satisfied.
Too large, too small, way to tall.
Never to be satisfied these horrid eyes of mine.

Love merely an afterthought.
I find a love that fits me true.
No time to stop an think, must get more.
The signs to tell me to let go
where their long ago.
I dare not read them,
I dare not think.
For my instints must be true,
I must be with you.
No?
Oh no you say?
OK, alright.
You see that heart that lies upon the ground?
A piece of it is yours to keep.

Metal Heart

My heart, my heart,
it is no heart attack
the blood flows fine,
it’s only broken.
I see no need I have in it.
The tape and glue do me no good.
I think I’ll get me a new one.
One with a metal wall.
To protect me in a fall.
I shall not feel the pain at all
with my metal heart.
It shall prevent me of life’s pure joy.
But who needs love when you have a metal heart?

Good stuff, skinnedmink

BTW, you are more than welcome to edit your own poems
to correct any errors and format them the way you want.
Visual flow is just a important for a poem.
Paint it the way you want.

Thanks.

Sleep

The fluid roar of emptiness
fills my thoughts.

Nothing.

Until
black and red
death
to another.

And again.

Awakening.

Good stuff laughter. Keep it up.

My Companions

Despair is named the ghost
that haunts the heart of me.
Sorrow is her sister
and from them I can't break free.
For they tiptoe through my heart
and through my mind
and through my soul.
Then loneliness joins hands with them
and onwards do we toil.
Still I look towards brighter times
and hopes and dreams and love.
Yet they are elusive just
like the rising dove.

joyous rapture!
eternal glee!

torn asunder
reckless deeds

terrible sadness
forever alone

empty heart.
broken soul.

dirty dishes-
one beer left...
bathrobe and
small pile of

bugler tobacco.

lawnmower sound-
to remind me
that i don't have one....

and the weeds are getting higher
every day.

this is the birthday
of

my mother....
but i didn't know that
until she

left a message saying so
and i love you

and would you please

pick up the phone.

hillside at white horses
hammering sacred staves
into old pages

Once turned infinitely
and once more finally

mindlessly memorized and snared
by Peter's pounding hooves
moving swiftly to be
pigment only recognized
by crimson reigns
in the final man made sea

hillside at the answer
master of no cause
athiest in the rapture
lost apocolypse...
for apocolptic loss

poetry is fun. let's do more

i think you are right

thank you. (she bows.)

staring into the mirror of oneself
a shattered reflection peers back
empty and emotionless
How can something so beautiful
be so destructive?

shattered by what i see
i tell myself things can only get better
a blatant lie one which i refuse to believe
for all signs point a bad way

an evil way
one that is filled with pain... suffering
conformity and uselssness
filled with an ever present lonliness

where did it go wrong where did i get lost?
why did i take this damn road
leaving me nothing but my shattered mirror?
for me to reflect on my own reflection...
how sad

why am i writing of it if it brings so much pain to think about it?
now that i have written this
why are you reading this?
now that you have read this i have but one simple question...
do u care that i am trapped here?

That is both beautiful and disturbing. It may be that what makes it feel uncomfortable is also what makes the beauty. You have drawn a vivid picture of pain and hopelessness that many can relate to. It seems so real that I wonder if it is? Are you in your poem?

Here are some lyrics for a song I wrote. I don't think I'm very good at writing them though. I'll let you guys tell me what you think.

So Small.

There world is so big
I am so small
What can I do?
Who really cares at all?

What am I doing here?
Who do I hope to save?
Who do I think I am?
I'm just like everybody else.

You won't remember my name.
A whisp of wind at your ear.
You won't remember my face.
You'd never know I was here.

so What am I doing here?
Who do I hope will save me?
Who do I think I am?
I'm just like everybody else.

The world is so big.
I am so small.

What is the music like?

sort of punk. i wrote on the music on acoustic guitar. it's still in transition to a full-band song.

yeah its about my current situatuion with a friend of mine... its me wondering why i gotten so fucked up over this and questioning why its happening

Angstigmata
 

lots of noise for nothing
drink more, eat less
increased happiness
the instructor says
lift knee, bend
don't stop
until you reach the other side

restaurants and candle light
dinners,
sort of confusing
jump through the window and
land on the street among
the broken glass

she is busy right now, please hold

that's alright, i have time
in fact it's all i have
and even that i don't possess
chuckles and reaches between
oh my, and then, ha. yeah;

you begin to lose it, she is
unavailable but would you like to
leave a message, sir

no, fuck that; no messages
just tell her there is no fuel
she will know; and understand
these metallic wings and
rusty feathers

it's Nazareth, baby
and home
and deliriously happy tailwags
oh Sidney, drive me to the
station

on the public phone
dial through the distortion
dry mouth, mental powder
i am sorry sir but she
already left

she already left

adoLesson
 

all my thoughts are
only inches long. and
there is an explanation for
everything. beer
tastes like piss
to validate the fact
that goodness
is on a par with evil. we
laugh at the crippled
and the crying, the bloody. there
is no scale grand enough
to measure
our contempt of Man. Smokey

wants couples or
bi-curious shemales. butch
and unafraid of the whip.
rubbing chicken all over
his pierced genitalia. and
soy milk, whatever there is
for a kitschy artistic fucker.

i was subtle, all the way
even in indecency. and
about my hunger for
her moist flesh,
amoebic
with a twist. and
a scent
of poetic eroticism. little

nibbles, we
speak of karma. there's
a vague shape
with a series of
outlines, touching
outdoor areola,
y'know \ like a universe of its own.

adulthood. in little doses --

keep out of reach of
children

I wrote this about 9 years ago......

Vision of Existence
-------------------

Going past the end
is to enter the next beginning
Assumptions of yourself being blank.

Ask a question that echoes
slowly, becoming nothing
as if all the world is deaf.

Common ground is not obtainable
but flutters under the breath of life
coming slowly from within us all
insight is warm and comforting.

At last the day has come
the star upon which your name was cast
flickers and implodes.

Do you awaken?
Or are we all just a dream?

There’s no reins of asking,
On this saddle of weeping,
The horse is dead,
And the rider’s sleeping.

Friends

The torrent was strong
full of anger, cries of pain
then came the rain
torment erased


only friends remained.

Where they entered
I cannot say
I cry, tears fall
desprate in my concern

With a kind soft word
they erase my pain
A warm embrace
and I am free

A savior's voice
A healing touch
friends
angels in disguise

healing
helping
showing a way
through the pain.

Years have passed
a life lived well
Still my sunshine in the rain

Friends so dear
through all the years
how does a friendship never end?

See each other once every year
maybe twice, if luck remains
we've seen other worlds
we've conquered our fears
Finland, India, France

How we do cry
we would never lie
our friendship
never to die.

Years may pass
Time forcing us older
Wars may rage
countries apart
yet still we stand
united in our common goal

friendship:
the prize we treasure all.

*note: this is about a group of friends that have remained such since the early days of junior high.

Astroclouds 4 lines blew me away.

i've got to many to post...but my newest ones are @ http://www.blurty.com/~teknotoeknee

and no thats not a shameless plug, it's become strictly for my writing.

if only once, I feel
this chill from heated life
melting all I thought I was
no touch can compare, to the image
burned in the retina of my soul

I knew this once, I think
in dreams half forgotten
the tip of my minds tongue
tasting imagined futures of love
sweetening the bile that is life

Astrocloud....that.....was........awesome! can you give us a little background on the poem, what you feel about it?

Face the Dark

It all started with a bright light,
Born like everyone else, supposed to like life.
I just wanted to be me, not "like mike".
Now since my world spun every night’s a fight.
Then i met this girl, she sent my life for a whirl,
then tossed my love to the floor in one swift hurl.
An endless drama, with no exit,
Horrible actors, no script & no direction.
Men & women seem plastic upon inspection.
All following the same trends in one large collection
& i’m feeling rejection, i’m not one of them.
Everythings confusing, i don’t know where to begin,
i try to control myself, fighting with sin.
Can’t get it all out when i write with this pen.
There’s no light at the end, i can feel it already,
It’s like carring too much load, it’s heavy
& my back’s about to collapse from the pressure.
Brains utterly confused, all that i view is a stresser.
Life itself is pain, i gotta maintain,
but all of this mental anguish is drivin me insane.
This shit’s plain, all the color is faded,
Happiness and joy are gone, everything’s jaded.
An awaited arrival of somebody new
was good in the beginning till everything turned blue,
then changed to black & now i can’t change it back.
Everyone i know complains about how strange i act,
A ranged attack, cause nobody will let you know
what they hate about you till they get what they want & go.
I see this world like nobody else
you can say that i’m stupid or blame it on my mental health.
At times i don’t believe love for me can ever exist,
i’m scared to death when my whole reality twists,
& spins til i’m dizzy as a top,
I can’t tell whats real, clairity’s at a stop.
Every door is locked, there’s no progression.
Trapped in a bland world with limited selection.
In the business section, i read of people who succed,
but none of this really interests me.
I’m stuck in my struggle, my trouble,
but noone else really cares how i hustle
to survive, I’m not exactly proud to be alive.
I would’ve rather never seen that bright light in my eyes,
none of these feelings would be tearing apart my heart,
because without the light i wouldn’t have to Face The Dark

Good one, Dajamany
It's almost like rap poetry.
I like the rhythm.

If you've got one

Mine is by Robert Frost, I just moved away from all my friends in my old town, and it basically describes how ive been feeling for the past month.


The Road Less Travelled

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

-Robert Frost

One of the Slam poems I wrote recently:

The moment I step inside your view is the moment you’re supposed to realize that I’m lying to you.
In fact, I don’t believe I’ve ever told the truth.
But you fail to recognize the lie that I’m convincing you with.
And I fail to recognize that the lie is convincing me with every passing moment and I hate that I build myself on tainted grounds.

And I feign those grounds.
And I play in those grounds.
And I reign in those grounds until I am no longer grounded.

I wish I could be grounded. Locked inside myself, forced to keep company with me, forced to live my reality, forced to really be me.

But man oh man this lie is laid out comfortably. The plush cushion of misconception, the woven web of fabrication, the elation found from a completely false station… I can’t believe this aberration but then again that’s the point… so sharp I tiptoe around the eggshells of reality, careful not to further disturb the careful placement of my lie’s alarm.

What harm would it do, I ask, to sweep the shells away and play with the reinvention of myself. I could play De Vinci in my own convincing.

But I think I’m too late. Wait. How can I conceive of how late I am when I’m lost in the conception of who I am? I am too drowned in the lie to rise above the surface so I sure face the eminent loss of this race against myself. But then again I’m also winning. I’m spinning this web of wonder, wondering if I’m the spider or the fly... or both.

As the spider I hide and cover my true self for fear that it might release a call for help. As the fly I struggle to scream but the fear leaves my voice useless and lifeless and my life is forfeit.

I forget that there is a true me and all I can see is the mask that I’ve created. The stated and dated faces… I’ve carefully planned to face the world with a preset persona.

And I know it.

I want to take the mask off but the face beneath it is formless, more Me, less the Me you know. You know nothing of the person now inside your view. Your viewpoint points you in the direction My lie told you to take, you’re taken by my faking, I see an advantage and like always… I take it.

I took you and you were looking right at me when it happened. It happens my lie worked yet again. And again I find a way to convince myself that I’m lying for a good reason.

And the reason is you.

And I convince myself that the lie is worthwhile because while I may not have myself, I have you. So I continue to lie within your view. I continue to lie to me and I continue to lie to you.

Because I’ve never told the truth.

This mask is held with so much glue that I could never separate it from my being and being this way continues to subjugate the slave I’ve made of me.

As the fly I whisper memories of who I am to myself in hopes that I may ground the spider and fly free. Free to be me, free to see, free to be seen, free to life truthfully.

So while someday I’ll remove this mask and show you who I am, for now I’ll cram myself inside this simulation. An imitation of what you and you and he and she and society think I should be. You see, that’s why I’m too late to play De Vinci in my own convincing. Television has already been my buttinski. It’s meddled so deeply in the weaving of me that the Celtic knots are strangling me.

So for now I’ll gasp for breath.

For now, I’ll continue to whisper to myself.

Now, I’ll dream of a someday creation. Facing the lie and lying down no longer. No longer hiding, but thriving, still hoping that the you who loves the lies in me…

will still lie with me…

will still love me.

Poem
 

This morning
Standing outside in the cold
A snowflake, fat and flawless,
Landed on my left breast
I stared at it
Sure I'd never seen anything
Like it before
Then I wiped it away
With my hand
Because I knew
That nothing in the world
Should be so perfect

The sun sets on yet another day/
I ask myself if I showed love and in what way/
Did a stranger become a friend/
For no motive did a hand I lend/

I look in the mirror and am happy what I see/
For today I was the best me I could be/
I showed my love to the world the best I could/
And now I wonder if I really should/

But the I look around and think/
How can I watch another sink/
I wonder if everyone just took the time to make a friend/
If perhaps the hatred in man would truly end/

For the hatred comes from within the heart/
And that is what keeps us all apart/
Yet if we look everyday in that mirror and like what we see/
I just wonder how geat this world would be/

Home from work time to relax/
Switch on the news to see what's said/
Congress gets a raise, I get a new tax/
Another shooting 3 teens are dead/

But wait says the ever smiling anchor/
There's a chance there maybe rain/
The sky is in turmoil like never before/
But companies show record gain/

And now for the sports/
We know you hold them ever so dear/
Your star player wants traded the team director reports/
And the owner gets tax breaks, so he's decided to move from here/

And now the lighter side/
Well trust us there's something funny/
Something that keeps us from mass suicide/
Ah yes this word from our sponsor selling youth and taking your money/

There's a hole in the atmosphere
And the glaciers are melting down
There's people running everywhre
And chaos in the town

There's a man living next to me
He's nowhere to be found
His wife has taken to gardening
And a strange smell comin from the ground

There's the beauty that I work with
She's very sweet it seems
But she's telling me every night she drinks a fifth
And then goes to the park naked and screams

Has the world totally gone crazy
Have we all lost our mind
Or could it be we need something cause we've become lazy
And now we are all one of a kind

There's the trusted principal
Who has never done wrong
Known his wife ever since she was a litle gal
But they found him at a gay bar wearing a sarong

The press tells us all we need
They hound and stalk for their story
And not for knowledge but for greed
But for a mistake i have yet to hear sorry

Now we all have chosen to live within our head
For the craziness is rotting society's very core
Me I shiver covered in my bed
Wondering if I ever locked my door

I meant this in some fun thought I'd give us some humour....... well there is humour in truth sometimes

fortunately no one hears the blayed note or the wail
too many sirens
fall upon a tyrant's heel, suddenly it's morning
tonight the starfall spins the dark sky
porous moons, feel the ominous space inside
for all the times you turn out sidling, yelling hello hello heads angle northeast hello it shines wow
sunset's a cobalt blue
telephone drones
study the historical forecast, move
soot rallies for a rebel wind, settles into an incomplete doom
money sez
toast

They said it was for a "new world"
For peace and harmony for all of us to share
But the corporations bought out the ideals
And the promises became nothing but an empty word
And we turned a blind eye so we wouldn't show care

Gone are the days of sitting around and talking
Gone are the days of innocence
Noone truly remembers thier past anymore
Governments to the people are balking
Corruption and money mean everything and there is no pentance

The lawyers put the death knell in our freedoms
We walked away thinking somehow we had won
But the only ones who got anything were the lawyers who made the billions
And we watched as corporations became the new Kingdoms
And we sit and watch the tele soour minds can become numb

It's never to late to regain your heritage
Grab hold onto the past and look toward a bright future
The ony thing that we truly have is our ideals and never sell them out
For tomorrow will dawn a new age
And if we don't sell out, perhaps maybe it can still be true and pure

She sits alone
thinking of the love that has gone away
she should have known
A love doesn't last when there's nothing left to say

He drives down the road again he's all alone
Thinking where it all went wrong
why he couldn't stay
But it had to end for the truth was shown
And when there's no trust there's nothing left to say

Yes, love is beautiful when ya share
And the world is so much better when there's someone there to care
Yes, Love is wonderful when the trust is there
But when the trust dies and the world won't hear your heart's cries all ya see is loneliness everywhere

They tried to live the lie of the heart
They couldn't see they just were hurting one another
They didn't realize living a lie drove them further apart
They didn't want to be alone but knew deep down they coulldn't stay
together

Living the lies of love
Trying to hold together something that isn't there
Trying so hard to keep the heart tough
But then ya realize the heart has gone sour and there's nothing left
there


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
By Philip Andrew Norris (Pan) on Thursday, August 15, 2002 - 02:30 am:
Remember when we were innocent
The love our hearts knew
No sins to repent
And all we felt was so real and so new

Can you remember those days when we saw our favourite KINK
And the music filled our soul and touched our heart
Ray's lyrics so deep and made ya think
And Dave never missing a lick played so energetic from the very start

Will your heart open up long enough to look back
When life was so pure and free
And for love none of us ever felt a lack
And the days seemed made for you and me

But then it all seemed to fall apart just as you grasped that last ring
Greed took over and the heart lost its way
And all you could hear was the money sing
God why couldn't the innocence stay

Now on a building ledge you stand waiting to jump
Your soul so infested with wanting new toys
And you know your wife is out on another drunk
Spending her days with a bottle and one of her newest boys

That boss you loved so dearly took all the money
Left you out in the cold
He's down on an Island with some sexy honey
And you realize your spirit you sold

I beg of your dear friend
On all that we once shared
That this is the beginning not the end
For you my friend I have always cared

Find your way to the past
Pick up those pieces of your heart
And in those shatters you'll see what matters is my love for you shall always last
And dear friend remember those innocent days and perhaps you can make a new start

Don't tell me your love is dead
For even in nature the cycle of life in full of rebirth
Don't tell me there's nothing to live for cause everything's already said
Cause life would never be the same without you on my Earth

So give me your hand
Whenever you fall down into the dirt
Together we'll take that stand
And when the end does come you can say you fought and lived through all of life's little hurt

Poor direction sinks the humble kites, torn raging;
Rusty gun in dark water at night.

Before there were these things we call roadmaps, people had to draw in the ground with sticks.
Directions were the things you saw,
magnets were a trick.

I saw you the other day, standing there.
I looked at my watch to see what time it was and the only thing
I could think about was asphalt and wavy air.
Leaving was the simplest thing about the moment.

Places are defined by gray slop.
But that doesn't make it easy.

It is a bit funny. But a bit sad on how true it rings....

A couplet

The cheeseburger, fresh from the grill
I couldn't wait to experience the thrill
Of taking the first greasy bite
And washing it down with my Sprite
The key to a good burger is cheese
Good enough to bring you to your knees,
To pray to the burger gods for some more
Of the marvelous taste galore
Now, I eat it with no haste
To bask in the glorious taste
But, sadly, the burger is done
Nothing left, but a piece of the bun.

i open my windows

and lock the door

choose to acknowledge

but tend to ignore

forget where i'm goin'

end up where i am

organizationally challenged

with no cohesive plans

i nod my head slowly

and shrug it all off

with a crooked smile

and a nervous cough

attempt to remember

what exactly went down

i'm always arriving

and departing this town

Someone asked me to write them a poem, and I just couldn't think of anything at all. Eventually, I just started writing some nonesense and this came out:

I’m having trouble writing this.
I must have lost my touch.
It used to be so easy for me.
Now it’s just too much.

It wasn’t hard before.
I’m so confused now.
Where’s all my inspiration?
I’m beginning to wonder how?

It’s gone for good, he exclaimed.
Never again, will I write.
This poetry thing is over.
I’ve lost this fight.

What’s wrong with me now?
This is going nowhere fast.
I guess I better just quit.
This poem will be my last.

Wait, he thought, what’s this?
I’m working on my fifth paragraph.
I might be getting back.
I think I’m back on…AWWWW CRUD!!
What rhymes with paragraph?
Polygraph?
No good, I give up.

I slip between the sheets.
There is no moon tonight.
But I can always find your lips
In the dark.

Here's an excerpt from a long poem I wrote about ten years ago titled November. It ran for about twenty pages and was uneven in quality, so I'll just post the prologue and first chapter here.

Prologue

Midnight brings the running of the dogs,
And the pillars of my empire start to fall,
And dreams of untold splendor expire in the dust,
And moonlight paints cold shadows on the wall,

And, blue as dead November, turn
My fleet and racing thoughts
To a memory still vivid to this day:
Covered in vine, and slime, and moss,
A fallen tree in distant woods
Lies rotting for eternity.

Chapter One

Let the hateful season now begin.
How better spent the winter than
Among cowards and friends,
Laughing as the fire dies,
All hopefulness at an end,
And all my wasted days of prayer
Stained black with pride and sin?

May iron-fettered Chaos be unbound,
And the last vestige of order serve
As carrion for the hounds
Who cower from the dimming flame,
But ever circle 'round,
Aspiring to the mercy seat
Atop the sacred mound.

Let the bell for erstwhile sapience toll
Across the final twilit sky.
Let the sepruchral stone roll
Across the portal of light.
Let November take my soul.
Let the dogs piss on the fire
And scavenge among the coals.

[Edit: typographical error]

Here are a couple of excerpts from another one I started after I finished November. I worked on it off and on for years but never finished it.

from Part I

She began, as a stranger,
To tell me the lies
That give her a foothold
On men's empty hearts,
Where the pale, dusty sunset,
In guarded jealousy
Of the dryness of solitude,
Begrudges a gilt romantic dream.

from Part II

Raise your glasses high, my friends,
In fond remembrance
Of the wretched melancholy of
Love's last tearful embrace,
And drink, till neither a heavy sigh
Of heartsick longing remains
Nor imagination taunts thine heart
Will skilled renderings of her face.

High school English class 1967. It seems to be more appropriate every year...

TERRA FIRMA

It started as a barren vast
Where nothing grew and nothing passed
Its hills were black, its crevices wide
Where nothing lived and nothing died

Its purpose was to bear a child
Bedecked, beloved, bemused, beguiled
And although it had just been born
It created for itself the Almighty scorn

It ended as a barren vast
Where nothing grew and nothing passed
Its hills were black, its crevices wide
Where something lived and something died

my dearest love i beg of thee
rescue me from decline
desire becomes necessity
a broken jagged line
misplacing my intentions
breaking what i've found
learning losing lessons
life becomes profound

a strange day
starting great
ending less than
as is always my way
i know not how to maintain happiness
so many challenges to its wellbeing
why do i feel as though i'm on the
end of some cruel joke
that sense of wicked anticipation
as though my head is on the block
but the axe has not fallen
why can't i have a complete day
their unhappiness breeds my discontent
too much at once
my head is on the block
but i know not my crime
only my danger
and moreso my fear
the anticipation
why does it always have to end like this
after so much opportunity
and so much joy
all collapses
all falls into that pit of despair
from which there is no hope of peace
for my head is on the block
and here comes the headman

Great first piece! Thanks for sharing, and welcome to the Literature Thread! :)

The Old Beat Poet's Girlfriend
 

He thought himself a God
(A King of Poetry he was)
A sensitive man’s man,
Hero of prose and rant...
He saw himself the center of all things
(And all things circled him)
But he was an asshole to say the least
He hobnobbed with the best of them
The Beat Generation his pals,
Bukowski, Ferlinghetti, Ginsberg
And all the coffee house groupies
-all so available, smart and pretty-
He thought he was a ladies man,
His men friends tried to warn me
(He's an emotional serial killer they said)
I ignored them.

Said he began to write in high school
(back in ole Brooklyn)
So that he could get laid-
Just out of high school myself,
He wrote me a poem, called me his muse,
that's why I climbed into his bed-
He went through all the motions
but he never got me off-
I didn’t even know
what an orgasm was way back then,
but I played my part as best I knew
I liked his scruffy beard.
I swooned and swayed and worshiped him,
I lingered on his every word
(I fed his ego well)
He was my all talented God- My Everything!
He called me his savior from the "Kerouac Disease"
(But I couldn't save him)

He was older than my daddy
I was younger than his child
I was the poet's girlfriend
(An old man’s trophy arm piece)
I learned to keep my talents to myself,
Lest I threaten his Man Poet Throne
He said I wrote like a girly girl and that
What I needed was more rage
(That came along soon enough)
He said "just speak your mind and let
it all hang out"… eventually I did.
One day he died (just like that) but,
I had long since then said all my goodbyes…
All his cool friends came to grieve his loss
(Oh, what a bitch is "Death" not so cool at all)

While I marched in the streets pissed off as hell
I began to write rants filled with plenty of rage
And I thought he would be so proud of me now!
But this was all so very long ago…
I’ve come full circle since then,
And thanks to Rabbi Buddha Ginsberg,
I found my own Rimpoche…
I’ve learned how to stay still and shut off my head
I wish he (My Everything) had known how to do that...

Poem about Beatnik Sex
 

Poem about Beatnik Sex

He thought himself a God
(A King of Poetry he was)
A sensitive man’s man,
Hero of prose and rant...
He saw himself the center of all things
(And all things circled him)
But he was an asshole to say the least
He hobnobbed with the best of them
The Beat Generation his pals,
Bukowski, Ferlinghetti, Ginsberg
And all the coffee house groupies
-all so available, smart and pretty-
He thought he was a ladies man,
His men friends tried to warn me
(He's an emotional serial killer they said)
I ignored them.

Said he began to write in high school
(back in ole Brooklyn)
So that he could get laid-
Just out of high school myself,
He wrote me a poem, called me his muse,
that's why I climbed into his bed-
He went through all the motions
but he never got me off-
I didn’t even know
what an orgasm was way back then,
but I played my part as best I knew
I liked his scruffy beard.
I swooned and swayed and worshiped him,
I lingered on his every word
(I fed his ego well)
He was my all talented God- My Everything!
He called me his savior from the "Kerouac Disease"
(But I couldn't save him)

He was older than my daddy
I was younger than his child
I was the poet's girlfriend
(An old man’s trophy arm piece)
I learned to keep my talents to myself,
Lest I threaten his Man Poet Throne
He said I wrote like a girly girl and that
What I needed was more rage
(That came along soon enough)
He said "just speak your mind and let
it all hang out"… eventually I did.
One day he died (just like that) but,
I had long since then said all my goodbyes…
All his cool friends came to grieve his loss
(Oh, what a bitch is "Death" not so cool at all)

While I marched in the streets pissed off as hell
I began to write rants filled with plenty of rage
And I thought he would be so proud of me now!
But this was all so very long ago…
I’ve come full circle since then,
And thanks to Rabbi Buddha Ginsberg,
I found my own Rimpoche…
I’ve learned how to stay still and shut off my head
I wish he (My Everything) had known how to do that...

Momma's Boy

And what
Would your mother say?

Oh.
She would buy it for me

Three kinds, and herself
One Granville Ale

one i wrote about an ex-girlfriend...somewhat loosely based on the rhythm of a Tool song. (i won't specify which, though...)

anger, by TZ

Mention this to me.
Something we can finally believe.
We can watch the weather change.
Mention anything to me.
So we can watch the weather change.

Descending comfortably.
I can see the meaning in your eyes.
And watch the weather change.
Desperate to conceive.
Everything we don't see.
We can watch the weather change.

Surrender this feeling.
Tell the truth.
We can see it anyway.
We watch the weather change.

Sleep now, breathe in.
Watch it go away.
We watch the weather change.
Mention anything to me.
We can watch the weather change.

Controlling me.
Decisions to forfeit and do as you see fit.
I watch it all change.
Come back to me.
Mention anything.
We can watch the weather change.

Sweet surrender.
Something unlike anything.
We see it coming down.
And watch the weather change.

And we can see it as it goes.
We can watch the weather change.

My poetry's not that great, and pretty sporadic, but what the heck?

Starting Over

Starting over
Doesn't mean
Putting back the pieces
or
Wishing it never happened.
It doesn't mean
Tearing out you heart
or
Purging your soul.

Starting over
means
Moving on, and letting go.
It means
Letting your heart mend
and
Setting your soul free.

Starting over
means
Allowing yourself the title of 'me'
Instead of being half of an 'us'.
It means being able to
Laugh too loud
Flirt too much
and
Taking off all masks.

Until this is realized,
You will always be tethered to the past,
and
You will never grow your wings
to
fly.

i likes it, i likes it a lot.

very good...and true as well.

:)

Thanx, T-bob!

welcome c-bob!

(i thought i knew who you were...now i'm positive.)

Colour me impressed!
What gave it away?

it was the t-bob, mostly...

sent you a PM, checkit, womang! :thumbsup:

I see....................

The past walks by me today,
smiles, and wishes me well
the brief conversation we
have is sad , nice ,breaks my heart
and is somehow full of hope
a block later , another unreleated past
walks by, and as I nod a hello
the past has a look on it's face
like it wants to kill me
and this makes me laugh
and truth is stranger then fiction
as that past has killed somebody
in thier past
and maybe this should scare me
except I know that past will
never be as unafraid as I am
if that makes any sense
and love is kicking at my heels
a different topic all togeather
except that specific love is also
from the past,
and maybe on this one I am
a little spooked, and I do not
know why, but I have been smileing
for two whole days, and life is wonderful,
even if pain is enivitable

(please exuse any spelling errors)

This will be my first time posting poetry here. I'd love some feedback. Thanks!

Thursday Afternoon

She pulls on her shirt
and moves the needle to play.
She says the scratching and pops
make her feel real
and it's hard to argue with reality
even if it's only in your head

Watching the vinyl lines go by
she asks him if he believes in God
and he can't quite say what's on his mind
so he watches her hips sway
and she's golden in the afternoon sunlight
filtered through nicotine stained curtains

He calls her baby
tells her she's beautiful
and she believes him today.


4am

And I woke up
to the sound of you
falling asleep across the city
I couldn't fall back to sleep
no matter how my eyes pleaded with my body
There was no choice any more.
And thighs,
stretchmarked and scarred
from a period when change met with resistance, and inevetably won out,
kept fingertips warm
at home
as mind wandered
and stomach lurched
to the sway of an organic pendelum.
I fell asleep
as you woke up
thinking of me.

Welcome! This line " and it's hard to argue with reality/ even if it's only in your head" really stuck out for me. Thanks for sharing!

Cellophanedeity, those were both absolutely fantastic. Thanks for sharing those, and I hope you'll be putting more on in the future.

Thankyou so much for the positive feedback! I'll post more soon, I promise.

I'm looking forward to it Cellophanedeity :)

More from me! (I don't like this as much. If anyone could fix it up, I'd appreciate it!)

I walk by you
Toes getting wet
From the puddles on the ground
From the rain that is beginning to end
And for one moment our souls connect
And tell us not to look
Not to see
Not to touch
And I don’t know why

You walk by me
Fingers too warm in gloves
Knit by someone who loves you
And for one moment our souls connect
And you know who I am
And you want to say
And you want to touch
And you don’t know why

Thoughts of you
flood through dams in my head
and the way you smell
when you're warm
And the way the light
reflects off your shoulders
when the moon shines through the window
and the way your chest tastes
and feels under my lips
and your sweet breath
moist against my neck
is flowing through me

My body has memorized your fingerprints
each groove and dip
touching the skin on my back
light enough that I can barely feel
the way the calluses from playing too long
scratch just a little
and send lightning up my spine

As rain falls through leaves
Sky sweet rumbling outside
I’m so happy to finally drown in you

As rain falls through leaves
Sky sweet rumbling outside
I’m so happy to finally drown in you


That is such a great summary of the poem, Cellophanedeity - although I'm not sure what you meant by "fixing" the first one... what is it about it that you don't like?

By fixing I mean "if you have any constructive criticisms, then I'll gladly take them!"

I'm glad you liked them. :)

I was hesitant on posting these, because I don't believe they are very well written. However, they are a reflection of me and my past, so I figured if I want people to get to know me, I might as well go ahead and share.

First some backround: I do not have a very pleasant relationship with my mother, and I even have a hard time calling it a "relationship" sometimes. So this first one was written from my own perspective of my my past. The second is written from my mother's perspective, and only as a mere guess as to what she might feel like today. Writing these has given me a whole new outlook on how I should be approaching my "relationship" with my mother.

So... here it goes...

“The Daughter”
These words and walls
Of cringing anger turning into a ball
Deep inside of my soul
Ripping at my insides with its wretched shambles of her, taking its toll

She pushes me out without a care
Leaving me naked and bare
For the rest of my life
You leave me to pick up the pieces of my life

With your hatred for him
I’ve become this love of a person
With so much trust to gain
You restrict and control until you my heart you have slain

If ever it was right
For me to cry every night
Please give me a clue
As to why I deserved this abandonment from you

Slamming my door to shut out your lies
Makes it even harder for me to love you
As the years of your power add up
I become this social outcast
Untaught and dealing with the dead hand of the past.

I am a daughter whose struggles show plainly and behaviors have lost many
I am who I am.
Forgive me
For I have no idea how to apologize.



“The Mother”
I am the one who gave her away
With every second of each passing day
She grows up with my manipulating sinister glare
And I cry myself to sleep, because all I can do is compare

Her future with mine
Only makes me sigh
I could never comply
With her needs, her wants
For I was never taught…
How to teach these qualities she now bares.

This is not a gift fro me
I must admit these superficial aspects
“The Perfect Daughter”
Never existed
Even though in the end, I didn’t care.

I am the mother who stays
Unhappy inside staring at my own daughter’s somber gaze
I have failed at this: the only thing I had the chance to do right.
All I can do is struggle with the controlling personality fights.

I am who I am.
Forgive me.
For I have no idea how to apologize.

Emotional20 - thanks for sharing this with us - your attempt to see things through your mother's eyes shows much depth, and you will learn much from attempting to doing so. The writing is a little rough in places where it feels you sacrificed feeling to get words to rhyme. However, the feelings you have ring through loud and clear - and I feel that is the most important part of writing. The first will come with time, practice, and building skill, but that is all meaningless if your heart is not foremost in your writing. Welcome to Tilted Literature, I really look forward to anything else you might post here :)

Tanku for a Frozen Fire
 

Red ripe strawberry:
luscious, succulent, juicy.
Tart, but oh: sweet! I
bite, savouring, to etch the
flavor forever in my mind.

3 july 2004

NOW
 

Now I understand:
The pieces missing from my heart --
Discarded by your hand.

You're so black and white
Until I'm black and blue.
Searing. (Colors my world.)

But I don't give a damn.
I'll take the crumbs of self-respect
You've left, and try to be a man.

Now I'm falling out of time.
No reason left, barely a rhyme.
Lost my soul. Losing my mind.

(10/15/2000)
~ 11-08-2003

One Tear
 

One solitary
salty tear follows my cheek,
making its way from
eye to mouth to tongue and back
again, all be cause of you.

Spring 1999

Okay,
enough.
For now

One solitary
salty tear follows my cheek,
making its way from
eye to mouth to tongue and back
again, all be cause of you.


Fantastic.....the split of be cause was brilliant

Definitely some well thought out pieces here, zz0011- You should gather these and any future ones you'd like to share with us in your own thread. If you want some help with that, feel free to bug Tecoyah or another mod, or just hit the "New Thread" button at the top of Tilted Lit ... and welcome to Tilted Lit :) I'll definitely keep my eyes open for more of your stuff ...

well
 

...I can't really take credit. I didn't intend to split it out. I had been counting my syllables and forgot to re join the word. Which I ended up doing in a way I thought was simply editing but it ended up re-posting it. But thanks for the intended compliment.

Very kind of you...
 

...to say: "ciao"

Question for the Moderator of this thread / forum
 

Should I take the various pieces I posted here, delete them here, and gather them all together under a new thread, and then simply add anything new there -- since I do intend to add as I can in the future?

Was in a rush and couldn't quickly figure out who the moderator in question is to address this question so I hope the power what be sees this and responds, thanks!

Just start the thread....I will move everything there....let me know

ADVthanksANCE
 

MORNING

Arise, Arise,
Be gone the night,
And give the Dawn,
Its morning light.

The morning rays,
Like rooster crows,
Awake the farmers,
To their cropping rows.

Give us day,
And daily blessed,
Before you travel,
To settle West.

The flowers tilt,
To face the East,
They yearn for substance,
That will never cease.

Arise, Arise,
Oh how you burn,
And give the world,
Yet another turn.

Excellent work.......please post more as you feel it

I will look forward

Just having fun with this one.

blue
 

consummate blue
brokenhearted you
effigies in eyes of red
of all the words you never said

permanent blue
indelible hue
elegies in eyes of green
to elements you've never seen

and don't fear to weep
I'll be here all night
though the dark runs deep
and consumes the light
and you dream of sleep
it'll be alright
it'll be alright

oh dire blue
my bitter blue
a pyre in your eyes of woe
for ages you will never know

and don't fear to weep
I'll be here all night
though the dark runs deep
and consumes the light
and you dream of sleep
it'll be alright
it'll be alright

inspiration, inspiration all around...kudos everyone


The only time I feel alive
Is when I can feel you
You so deep inside my flesh
You so deep inside my soul
You forcing me to feel
You forcing me to give everything
I have in me, and,
Even some things I don't
You making me beg and scream for more
You making scream and beg no more
Please?
Please?
Please just make the pain on the outside
A little more than the pain on the inside
Make me feel
Tell me to beg for 'more'
The only time I feel alive is
When I can feel you
You so deep inside...of... me

"Please just make the pain on the outside
A little more than the pain on the inside"

Profound....and well stated....makes the Poem....


Good work

a belated thank-you:thumbsup:

these tendril chilled drips
fingers frozen forever
bending branches before me
cracked sound in sunlights beam
liquid held in state
delicate darkness deems
cellophane cold creation
awakened in dawns thaw
awaiting sunlights late withdrawal

drying like a dog

-

I wake up watching March huff,
she says:

your gods are angry,
yelling and smashing
their granite hammers
against their flint chests;
I don’t need this,
I have cherubs waiting for me.

April rubs my eyes with slanted spring light,
I contemplate the growling hour
between medicine and 10 am
strawberry onion bagels.

Why are we too vain to accept
unwantedness?

The folding darkness,
seeps throughout my mind,
under your velvet caress,
your touch divine.

There is no reality,
there is no time,
just the meanings,
comprised in the mind.

Comprised of the actions,
that make us ourselves,
as experience bends,
and meaning ends.

As we realize, what we have lost,
as we realize, the horrible cost,
the tragedy never played,
the sequel always delayed.

And thus ends the play,
the choices forever made,
for better or worse,
here we stay.

To the end of the end,
and the end of days,
my choice is you,
who would be the days.

Distraction Waking - Distraction Sleeping
 

[This is something I started a few years ago. I'm not sure if I'm satisfied with it yet.]

Unplug. The electro-radiation infects my head.
When did the sound of silence become
So harsh?

“I can’t hear myself think.”
I’m at least interrupted. I don’t need to think but
To react – but it doesn’t fit.

I started to listen.

A poet bleeds inside me; she has a world
To show me before she goes. I can’t hear her speak,
But she wants to remind me of our plight.
She speaks when I’m at my worst –
When I don’t want to worry about what I am.

This is what cut her:
I was taught to listen and I did what I was told.

The cable is severed and so is my core.
To reattach is to morph into the role
I cannot see myself in.
There are no models – no bottles, tablets, or
promiscuity. I can’t hold out
For much longer now that the water
Has broken – I shall soon choose my voice or bear
these last rains that seep into the dust of
forgotten yesterdays.



Implied/Assumed
[Okay, here's one more. I feel this one is more complete, but I'm never really sure. Maybe they're never truly finished.]

In this revolution of information,
I push these digits through my mind.

I carry my life magnetically,
Fearing imperfect elasticity,
Living in the electrocity.

It’s natural; natural evolution.
Everything is natural: do you
Remember nature?
Before you knew procedures,
Before you learned etiquette,
Before you had an income,
T(ele)V(ision)’s sit(uation)com(edie)s, and
I(nternet)S(ervice)P(roviders)?

Learn to fear pure imagination without even knowing it.
Divest, simplify, free your time:
Invest, complicate, and waste it.

If it’s unfamiliar, turn your nose up at it –
If it even reaches you at all.

Something I've been thinking about for months but wrote in 10 minutes.


Lost Touch
I was living in a pit of despair
too weak to climb the slippery walls
When the angelic creature walked by
in curiosity she reached down to my world
I had been yearning the touch for so long
in my eagerness I pulled her downwards
forcing her to let go
making me fall even deeper
So here I am waiting in apathy
waiting in vain for another chance
slowly fading away